


the moon

by ninanna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slice of Life, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninanna/pseuds/ninanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tadashi may not be eloquent, but there are more ways to pronounce affection than those with words alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Words don't come to him easily.

 

Nor beautifully. Nor successfully.

 

They get stuck in his throat and he cannot get them out; stutters one syllable or two, barely making a word concrete, sentences broken and meaningless at the end. How can he elegantly compliment someone when his larynx is so uncooperative and tongue so very _un_ literary.

 

He looks Tsukishima and sees a myriad of miracles, coming together and dancing, something so bright, something so alluring, something so akin to that one metaphor they had studied a year ago, something about moths and flames and so on—but that's the problem; he is not a poet. He cannot say these things or write them; it seems it is not only his mouth that fails him but his hands too. They do not know how to write exquisite things; even his handwriting is painfully average.

 

Thus, when it becomes too much to bear, when he has to pronounce it in some way; because that lump within him that grows daily, that grows every time Tsukishima smirks or smiles, every time Tsukishima looks defeated or hurt, every time Tsukishima touches him deliberately or not—that lump demands to be acknowledged. It demands to be given a voice or an image or a scent—it demands to be shown, bared somehow, at least a little.

 

Thus, faithfully, whenever he is not exhausted from extra practice and his hands not covered with blisters too painful and anew, he will diligently set the tiny tripod, position his iPhone just the right angle, securely adjust the extra glass lens he bought with three-months worth of pocket money. Decrease the exposure so the sky is black as it should be—at least as black as it can be in the city. Slower shutter speed but not too slow. One try. Another. Another—he is not a skilled photographer, and he has learnt that even skilled ones take many shots at once, so he doesn't give up. His best quality might be his obstinacy, he thinks sometimes.

 

And then that one shot will happen; the one that he will look and fondly smile because what he sees will not only be light and craters and a lovely celestial object but more and he will correct the contrast and then send it to 'Tsukki' and then wait. Wait with his heart in his hands and the Moon above staring at him, but his eyes too busy watching the screen.

 

And his best friend, and the source of his woes and blessings, the one for whom he wakes up from feverish dreams at 3 am, the one with whom he can say the most and the least, the one who sets his heart at ease and sets it to pure chaos altogether—his best friend Tsukishima Kei will often reply with recommendations about the composition or focus or whatnot. But then sometimes, sometimes he will instead respond with a simple “Beautiful” or “Good” or “Cool” and while Tadashi values all his comments, including the critical ones because he truly wants to improve, those simple ones, those single words, those summarised bits of satisfaction will be warm milk and honey to his soul; straighten his weakened confidence and give him hope.

 

Hope—hope is all he has and all he needs, he thinks. Hope that one day they will be somewhere far away but still together, that they will not have curfews to come home by, and Tadashi will not have a father who asks him if he is into any girls at school yet every morning, and Tsukishima will realise how amazing he is more and more, and they will be able to take a good and a telescope with them to somewhere rural, somewhere with minimal orange bits in the sky and maximum number of stars and there they can watch the sky together and Tadashi can snap many more beautiful pictures of the Moon and the others and share… share with Tsukishima alone. And maybe Tsukishima will smile and say that it is beautiful. That maybe helps Tadashi sleep better at night...

 

And he giggles whenever Tsukki calls them 'beautiful', because it is ironic—or perhaps that's not the word to use, but he is not a poet anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a special folder on Tsukishima Kei's phone for the photographs that Tadashi sends him; regardless if they are blurry or clear.

Kei's lips curl a little; in the dark they should not be visible but somehow Akiteru's onto it. Or perhaps it is his brother's general curiosity.

 

“Oh? What are you looking at?”

 

“Nothing,” Kei dismisses as he stuffs his phone back to his pocket but it is too late and Akiteru has already caught a bit of it.

 

“Was that a picture of the Moon?”

 

Kei doesn't deem the question deserves a response, but perhaps he should have, because the next thing Akiteru says, alongside a cheeky chuckle is; “How romantic, my little brother has girl friends sending him pictures of the Moon at night...”

 

“Don't be silly.” He shots back, then adds; “It's not a girlfriend of course.”

 

He tries his best to keep his voice definite but nonchalant; this point—this point is important but it is also important for it not to be overt. Just bolded but not underlined.

 

“Oh?”

 

Kei sighs; he would much rather to drop this conversation but if he does not answer now his brother will pester him about it all night long and the days to come and a picture—technically just a picture of a rock in space—will cause too much drama and noise.

 

“Yamaguchi likes taking pictures and sends some to me... sometimes.”

 

Akiteru hums and Kei hopes that is the end of discussion. He hopes his cryptic expression is steady, he hopes the night is dark enough to hide any potential fluster, he hopes he didn't accidentally delete the picture in his haste to hide the phone away. It is silly—it's silly but it cannot be helped. Some things cannot be helped, Yamaguchi has taught him again and again, in his own clumsy way. It cannot be helped that Yamaguchi has the sweetest smile on earth for Kei's eyes and just thinking of it warms his heart.

 

“Ah...” Akiteru sighs, “So cute though. I wish Tadashi sent me the pictures of the Moon too. It'd light up my night!”

 

“Ugh...” Kei scowls, “you're being silly again. Can't you act your age?”

 

He quickens his pace more because he is afraid he will let it slip; Akiteru may act silly but he picks on Kei's few clues better than anyone. He quickens his pace, because he really wants to go home as soon as possible and check his phone to ensure he didn't accidentally erase the photo—it was a beautiful one. He quickens his pace, because his heart-rate has already quickened, a slight flight-or-fight response on his heels; he is not going to fight his own brother over this though.

 

He quickens his pace, because Yamaguchi is probably restlessly waiting for him to comment and he wants to admit to his friend that it is “beautiful”. And then save the photograph in the folder named “ypics”--like always.

 

It is silly, but it makes him happy to know that only he receives these photographs—not that Yamaguchi has ever declared so, but he knows. He knows just as many other things that go unsaid between them; shown by heart or a glance, by a shout only in the most desperate cases.

 

Oddly but thankfully, Akiteru doesn't catch up to him and walks in his own slow pace; since Kei never looks back thoughout the whole three blocks left on the way to home, he never realises the content but knowing smile on his brother's face.


End file.
